#oceans apart arc

[skygodtraumabond]

[A letter, on Goldenrod Ecological Society letterhead, with Professor Bellamy Amaryllis's name at the top, but the word Professor on it has been crossed out. Included is a photo:

Bellamy and Dave Amaryllis standing next to a truly massive battle scarred Nidoking, who seems to be asleep in an enclosure, a cast on his leg. The two are waving, each holding an egg, and Maxx, a mareep with a bandaged tail, and Quincy, a rotom mill about at their feet.]

Hello Ray,

I am glad to hear you are eating again, I was quite worried about you. If I may ask, why do you think they would be poisoned? I assure you that you are quite safe there. I am glad they tasted good though, if there are any other foods you would prefer, let me or Briar know.

I assure you though, escaping is not necessary. We only want to see you healed and well, once you have recovered you will be free to do as you wish, stay or go. Wherever it is you want to go, whoever you want to see. You will not die there, or anywhere any time soon.

Dave and I have opted to keep two of the eggs, they are quite precious to me, and I know they will thrive in out care. It leaves three more eggs, but I already have an idea of who I will ask to care for them. Poison types can be quite misunderstood, but they are worthy of the same care and love as other pokemon, though my thoughts on this are probably quite obvious given my specialty.

I gave Brokehorn a pat for you. He really is quite beautiful up close, it is humbling every time I remember how large he really is. He should recover quickly, and be on his way soon, I do not think one could tame a pokemon like that if they wanted to. Should not, even.

-Your Friend, Bellamy

<Bzzt! I'll make sure this gets to Ray soon! They just got their team back and they're kind in the middle of a group cuddle. I don't think Scorch has let go of them since he got released into the room.

Though... I don't recognize this little guy. He seems to have been left out. Hello, friend! Who are—>

[WARNING: POWER SURGE DETECTED. REROUTING. . .]

[shomatoriashi]

7/30/24: 11:15am

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ request - oneshot }

- the academy arc -

@nyashykyunnie asked: KYUNNIE COMING IN CLUTCH AND SHALL DO A REQ BECAUSE BLESS UR SOUL FOR LETTING ME DO A REQ!!! MWAHHHHH!!! Hmo... Childhood friend reader x Jinwoo who went back in time >;3. He was always the chill typea boy best friend but ever since bby had puberty and became tall n hot he suddenly became... A little more posessive hehehehehehe. And what Jinwoo doesnt know is reader is secretly transmigrated and was his biggest fangirl for a long time and instead of being scared of Yandere!Woo they giggle at his murderous spree when she discovers that woowoo is going yandere over her heheheh Otherwise, go crazy bby>:3

warnings: unedited; petty bullying; violence; blood mention; gore; body horror; possessive and obsessive behavior

disclaimers: i do not condone such behaviors in real life; since this is purely a work of fiction, anything goes and i am willing to portray this creatively in the best way possible.

you are 5 years old, and your parents just moved into a quaint apartment complex. they were excited to be able to live in a space that they could call their own while surrounded by friendly neighbors.

as you busied yourself with your sketchbook, drawing ocean waves with colorful fishes swimming in them with your crayons, you heard a knock at the door. your ears perk up at the sound, and just as you were about to answer it, your father stops you with a stern expression. he calls out your name before gently reminding you, “what did papa tell you about opening doors? you should always let your mama or papa answer first, okay?”

you twist at the strands of your hair while pouting at him, giving your father a hesitant nod before following him to the front door. you hid your face behind the back of your father’s legs, eyes peeking curiously forward the moment he unlocks the door.

settled directly before you was a family that seemed to tower over you. you saw what looked like a tall young man and woman greeting your dad with kind smiles. in the woman’s arms was a baby wrapped in blankets, but what perhaps caught your attention was a little boy that hid himself behind his mother’s legs.

with your fascination growing with each second that passes, you slowly move away from your father’s legs while the little boy does the same. his grey eyes seemed to take you in, the blush dyeing his pale cheeks a rosier hue as the woman gently calls out to him, “jinwoo, go on and talk to her. she’s the same age as you, and i’m sure you’ll have fun.”

with his mother’s permission, the boy (jinwoo, it’s such a nice name), gives her a nod before standing before you, taking a hold of your hand. “wanna play together?”

you give him an eager nod, leading him to the floor of your living room as you showed him your sketchpad and the various drawings you had. as you turned the pad to a fresh page, you shyly offer your crayons to jinwoo, asking him if he’d like to draw anything. he gives you a smile while eagerly nodding at you.

and just a few moments later, when your father and jinwoo’s parents enter your home, they would see two giggling kids drawing while laying flat on their stomachs, basking in their imaginations all while knowing that this was a friendship that would last a lifetime-

you and jinwoo would become inseparable ever since that fateful day.

{ … }

days go by, quickly turning into weeks as the weeks slowly morphed into months while the months carried the ever changing seasons leading up to the new year-

and you found yourself here, 10 years later, ready to begin your first year of high school. you look at your reflection, adjusting the ribbon settled on your collar while brushing back your hair. you had plans of leaving your apartment 15 minutes ago-

however, jinwoo specifically told you to wait for him; that he was the one that would walk you to and from school as an extra means of protection (whatever that meant.) as you look at your clock settled on your desk, seeing how close it was to being 8am, you let out a huff and began marching out of your room-

only for your face to come into contact with a hard wall of muscle, earning a gasp from you. massaging at the slight ache felt against your nose, you look up to see jinwoo smiling down at you, already standing at nearly 6 feet despite only being 15 years old. a smirk graces his features when you feel him playfully flick at your nose, “ready to head to school?”

you grumble when he teases you, ready to walk ahead of him when he wraps his arms around your waist. he keeps you close to him, making your eyes go wide when he walks out of the apartment with you. he sees your mother doing the dishes and announces your departure, earning a knowing smile from her, “have a good day at school you two!”

before you could answer, jinwoo closes the door, a strange, dark look crossing over his expression as you trembled a bit in response. he shoves a hand in his pocket, using his other hand to hold onto yours as he interlocks them together. you take note of his expression and ask, “are you okay? you seem… upset.”

his expression immediately changes, eyes going back to its normal hue of grey when he looks back at you all while playfully ruffling your hair. “i’m fine, no need to worry your pretty little head over me.”

jinwoo then proceeds to annoy you, making kissy faces at you as he tries to get closer to you. you end up laughing while struggling to maintain your balance on the sidewalk, noticing how he still kept his gloved hand hidden within the pockets of his coat. admittedly, you had some anxiety pertaining to your first day of high school, yet with jinwoo’s constant teasing and jokes, you felt yourself becoming more comfortable as time passed.

arriving at your high school, jinwoo remains close to you, standing in the midst of a crowd of student while interlocking his fingertips with yours. as you stood together, ready to enter the school and start your day, you became achingly aware of several girls excited whispers. from your periphery, you notice the way they point their perfectly manicured nails at him.

“hey, he’s cute…”

“and so tall too…”

“ugh, why is he with such a plain girl though? don’t tell me they’re dating?!”

“no way! i’m sure she’s his pathetic best friend or something! hehe, i bet she gets friendzoned by him all the time.”

you purse your lips at the sounds of their giggles and harsh words, yet jinwoo squeezes your hand in yet another reassuring manner, moving slightly forward to block your view of them. you give him a grateful smile, seeing jinwoo meet your gaze before giving you a wink.

when the bell rings, you and jinwoo both enter the school together, ready to begin your first day. despite being in different classes, jinwoo was adamant in walking you to your class, frowning all the way. as you stand in front of the classroom, jinwoo places a hand on your shoulders, eyes seemingly glowing when he tells you, “if anyone dares give you any trouble at all, you tell me, okay?”

you giggle and awkwardly shuffle your feet from side to side, “i think i’ll be alright, jinwoo… but, thank you for your concern.”

he returns your smile with a strained one, ready to head back to his own class as he never once looked away from you. only when he disappears into the corner of the hallway did you let out a shaky breath.

surely, you had nothing to worry about, right?

you were bound to have a completely normal day at school, right…?

{ … }

and oh, how wrong your assumptions were!

you had barely finished the day, ready to meet jinwoo for lunch when your exit was blocked off by another student. she was a haughty girl that wore an expensive, ruby pendant that was shaped in a delicate rose while hanging by a thin, golden chain. it was clear that her family had money, as she was dressed in all the accessories and clothes that seemed to accentuate the beauty of her silvery blonde hair and startling green eyes-

a beauty that was used to getting what she wanted-

and a girl that shared your class.

you didn’t bother to know or even recall her name, since all she did was increase your anxieties with her mere presence alone.

“i see you walk into school today with what has to be the hottest guy in our class. so what’s a mousy little thing like you doing with a gorgeous guy like him?”

bile was felt rising up the confines of your throat as you held your sketchbook closer to your chest. the girl sneers at you, already reaching out a hand to snatch away at your sketchbook. you gasp, trying to get it back from her as you felt the tears dot your vision. “please, give that back! that sketchbook means a lot to me!”

buried within those pages were various sketches and stories that you and jinwoo shared, and if she were to ruin them, then all would be lost to you. you watch as her green eyes flash with malicious intent, already opening up your sketchbook as she idly flipped through the pages with a bored expression on her face.

it was when she flips to a random page that she sees the various sketches of jinwoo you had kept, her smile suddenly widening as she tore off the page and folded it, placing it within the confines of her pocket. “now this i can keep. as for the rest…”

her feign sigh of reluctance was all you could hear when she began ripping the rest of the pages out of your sketchbook, tearing up the pages into as many tiny shreds her hands could handle before tossing them up into the air, allowing the torn pages to fall like flower petals in the wind.

by now, your tears blinded you, making you fall to your knees as your heart broke with each torn page that lands on the ground. your breathing became uneven as the girl lets out a tiny “oops!” in response, finally walking away from you while tossing aside her silky hair.

you had no idea how much time you spent gathering the pages in the empty hallway, already knowing that lunch was nearing its end. as you were so focused on picking up the torn pieces of your sketchbook, you were unaware of heavy footsteps approaching you, calling out your name.

“hey, what are you doing? lunch is almost over-“

upon recognizing jinwoo’s voice, you allow your teary eyes to meet with his gaze, seeing them darken before flashing purple. “who did this to you?”

he ignores the ruined sketchbook and focuses his attention on you. picking up your shivering form, jinwoo places your face against his chest, allowing the front of his jacket to soak up all of your tears. several seconds pass when you were finally able to tell him what had happened. “it’s just… i-i wanted to meet you, b-but a girl in my class stopped me from going to you. s-she was mad that i was with you this morning and… she… she tore up my sketchbook while keeping my sketch of you.”

jinwoo’s hands stopped threading through your hair when he lowly asks, “who is she? what’s her name?”

you tremble upon hearing the dark tone of his voice and admit with a shaky sigh, “i don’t know her name… i just know that she’s pretty, with silvery hair and green eyes.”

jinwoo hums at this new information, keeping your face pressed against his chest to hide his expression of sheer rage from you.

soon, you wouldn’t have to deal with such trash like this ever again.

{ … }

you had filled 240 total pages inside of your precious sketchbook-

(jinwoo knew this since he was the one who religiously asked to see each drawing, read each story, painted within those pages)

and for all those 240 pages that had been so callously ripped out from your sketchbook, he had cut park yeon a total of 240 times with his daggers.

it was easy to lure her to him after school. jinwoo had made up an excuse to you about needing to talk to the coach and sign up for track, reassuring you to go home first and that he’ll text you later. with you out of sight and in the safety of your home, he then works on luring yeon to him.

her green eyes were blazing with a possessive hunger for him, following him with little question to the back of the school. he recalls the way yeon fuels his rage by telling him how she was made for him; how she was all he could ever need.

needless to say, she didn’t get a chance to speak further the moment jinwoo slices through her throat, cutting off her vocal cords as he began his revenge on her.

the night air was thick with the scent of blood when he looks down at the girl’s now lifeless body. his glowing eyes manages to dim down, his anger and fury now dying down to a simmer of annoyance as he now had a body to deal with. before he calls upon his soldiers to take care of the evidence, jinwoo’s eyes take sight of the glittering, rose pendant hanging loosely from the girl’s neck, a smirk gracing his features when he leans down to carefully release its clasps from her neck as he held the gorgeously crafted necklace within the palm of his hand.

{ … }

park yeon was not in class this morning, and you briefly wondered what had happened to her-

yet perhaps more-so than that was jinwoo’s sudden absence as well. feeling more concerned about your best friend, you recall how this morning, jinwoo’s mother had told you he had already gone to class, having an early meeting with the track team-

yet when you tried searching for him, he was nowhere to be found.

you check back on your phone when you ultimately decided to make your trek back to class, seeing no reply from jinwoo. letting out a sigh, you enter class and sit at your desk. as you worked on getting out your notebook from your desk was when you felt something cold against the palm of your hand.

your eyebrows were furrowed when you manage to pull out whatever lay deep within the confines of your desk-

only to see a ruby rose pendant covered in dried flecks of blood.

your mouth goes dry at the sight, making you swallow thickly before a wide grin paints your features.

sheer giggles of delight were heard coming from your parted lips as you held in your hand the same pendant that bitch had flaunted when she tore apart your sketchbook. grateful that no one was around, you continued to laugh, never once stopping as you cradled the necklace close to your chest.

jinwoo had done something about it after all!

and you couldn’t have been happier.

of course, you knew about him and his deepest secret.

you knew that he was the shadow monarch and had somehow reversed time to save the world-

you knew of how the two years he went missing was to take on the monarchs by himself-

and you knew that you had his heart within the very palms of your hand, for he had held yours since the very beginning.

back when you were a mere civilian and he had saved you from beasts that escaped the gates-

back when all you could see was himhimhimhim!

and now, that same man was all yours; with fate somehow placing you within his life the moment your parents had moved into the same apartment complex he had lived in all those years ago…

and now, he would never leave your side so long as you played your cards right.

forcing yourself to calm down, you adjust your blouse and put on the necklace, allowing the blood stained rose to settle against your collarbone as you hid the pendant with the fabric of your blouse. once it was all buttoned up, you adjust your blazer and smiled innocently at your classmates that started to walk in while your phone was felt vibrating against your desk. sliding open the screen, you smile when you saw a text from him:

[ my monarch 👑: sorry i wasn’t able to walk you to school today, i wanted my gift to you to be perfect. let’s meet up for lunch later, and i’ll give you a brand new, leather bound sketchbook to make up for the one you lost :) ]

[ you: that’s okay, my love! i look forward to seeing you again. thank you for the gift, i love you ♡ ]

[ my monarch 👑: i love you, too. always. ]

smiling at your phone’s screen, you give jinwoo’s profile picture a light kiss, all too eager to see him again when you dutifully turned your gaze forward and began taking notes, doing your best to hide your smirk when your teacher questions park yeon’s absence.

end notes: this feels like the most, true to genre yandere story i have ever written and i am so sorry for this, especially if it’s not my best work 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[aithusarosekiller]

Imagining a pirate au with two infamous ships captained by each black brother respectively and they're forced to join together because they know they're being sought out by a common enemy. They both have reputations for being violent and ruthless but they have a sense of camaraderie and love for their crew so they both go into it expecting the other to be fucking awful only to realise they seem to be the only two pirate ships out there with any level of trust and loyalty. Because of this, it's easier to assimilate because they already work well among their own crew.

And at first they all hate the decision but eventually it becomes a beautiful found family thing where they all find a home with each other and choose to stick together for the rest of their lives. One ship gets badly damaged and they help to save what they can before moving in to the other.

There are so many petty rivals to lovers arcs too. Dorlene both bicker over being in control of arms while trying to ignore the fact they're clearly interested in each other and it drives everyone else insane. MarPanLily have a weird competitive relationship going on that none of them understand but they get strangely protective of each other during raids.

Jegulus take FOREVER to get over themselves because Regulus heard stories of James from word of mouth and James heard about Regulus from Sirius so they've both told themselves for years that they'd have nothing in common and hate each other, only to realise they were painfully wrong when they actually meet and have to talk to each other about course planning.

Something about pirate aus make my fav ships seem so timeless and predestined to me idk. Like other aus are fun but something about meeting under such unusual, brutal circumstances and ending up travelling across the vast ocean together forever feels like peak romance to me even if it would be kinda sucky in real life bc pirates were not a fun happy healthy bunch. Still, the beauty in going to the ends of the world with someone and being apart from society is so beautiful for my little gay ships. Someone do that with me :(

[mysticstronomy]

CAN HUMANS LIVE ON JUPITER'S MOON, EUROPA??

Blog#442

Saturday, October 5th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Life is abundant on Earth, but we haven’t yet found it anywhere else in the universe. How do we search for life beyond our home planet? Scientists say we should look for three key ingredients that make life possible: liquid water, chemistry, and energy. Also, life takes time to develop. We should look for life on worlds where sufficient time has passed for life to get started.

Jupiter’s icy moon Europa may have these essential ingredients and is as old as Earth. NASA is sending the Europa Clipper spacecraft to conduct a detailed exploration of Europa and investigate whether the icy moon, with its subsurface ocean, has the capability to support life. Understanding Europa’s habitability will help scientists better understand the potential for finding life beyond our planet and guide us in our search.

Astrobiology is the study of the origin, evolution, and distribution of life in the universe.

This multidisciplinary field investigates the extremes of life on Earth to inform its search for life in the universe. It encompasses characterizing habitable environments in preparation to search for life.

Liquid water tops the list of ingredients for life, and Europa has lots of it. Scientists think Europa has a salty ocean beneath its icy crust with about twice as much water than all of Earth's oceans combined. Water dissolves nutrients for organisms to eat, transports important chemicals within living cells, supports metabolism, and allows those cells to get rid of waste. Scientists are confident there's a rocky seafloor at the bottom of Europa’s ocean.

Hydrothermal activity could possibly supply chemical nutrients that could support living organisms.

The best evidence that there's an ocean at Europa was gathered by NASA's Galileo spacecraft, which orbited Jupiter from 1995 to 2003. While Europa has no magnetic field of its own, when the Galileo spacecraft made 12 close flybys of Europa, its magnetometer detected a magnetic field within Europa as Jupiter's powerful magnetic field swept past the moon. Scientists think the most likely cause of this magnetic signature is a global ocean of salty water.

Europa's bright, icy surface is unlike anything seen on Earth. It’s the smoothest body in the solar system, with few towering mountains or deep basins. Ridges and grooves crisscross the surface, breaking up the landscape. Many of these features coincide with long, curving streaks that are dark and reddish in color – some stretching across the surface in great arcs over 600 miles (1,000 kilometers) long. Elsewhere, domes, pits, and jumbles of icy blocks hint that warm ice may be rising from deep below.

Along with water, life as we know it also needs certain chemical elements – the building blocks of life – including carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, and sulfur. These elements are common in the universe and make up 98% of living matter on Earth by combining to form organic molecules essential to life.

Scientists think these elements were likely incorporated into Europa as the moon formed. Later, asteroids and comets collided with the moon and may have left more organic materials.

The third ingredient for life is energy. All lifeforms need energy to survive. On Earth, most of that energy comes from the Sun. For example, plants grow and thrive through photosynthesis, a process that converts sunlight into energy. The energy is transferred to humans, animals, and other organisms when the plants are eaten.

But the type of life that might inhabit Europa likely would be powered purely by chemical reactions instead of by photosynthesis, because any life at Europa would exist beneath the ice, where there is no sunlight.

Europa's surface is blasted by radiation from Jupiter. That's a bad thing for life on the surface – it couldn't survive. But the radiation may create fuel for life in an ocean below the surface.

The radiation splits apart water molecules (H2O, made of oxygen and hydrogen) in Europa's extremely tenuous atmosphere. The hydrogen floats away and much of the oxygen stays behind and may bind to other elements. Oxygen is a very reactive element, which means it could potentially be used in chemical reactions that release energy. If the oxygen somehow makes its way to the ocean, it could react with other chemicals to possibly provide chemical energy for microbial life.

Originally published on https://europa.nasa.gov

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, October 9th, 2024)

"WHAT IS 'NEGATIVE TIME'??"

[revasserium]

could we get a protective zoro pretty please! maybe reader gets kidnapped again and zoro comes to find her but we get the actual fighting and zoro being protective? i’ll take anything you write <3

here are monsters

zoro; 1,737 words; fluff, opla!zoro, shockingly introspective zoro, straw hat!reader, fem!reader, vague gore (but not rly even), just zoro slicin' ppl, established relationship

summary: prequel to this fic right here

a/n: *makes vague uncertain hand gestures at opla!zoro*

he’s always known of the monster inside him — always. he’s always known of the hurricane that spins just beneath the cage of his ribs, the thunderstorm brewing beyond the horizon-line of his heartbeat.

when he sees you bloodied, bruises blooming at the edge of your mouth, something inside him snaps like a tideline, ripped apart by the rage of the ocean slamming against the back of his teeth. there’s a jagged bloodlust curdling in his throat as he narrows his eyes, pulls out his swords and swings.

the shing of metal through air shouldn’t sound like music, the dull thunk of bodies hitting the ground, no baseline beat — the bitten-off screams of men as their throats are cut should not sound like the familiar tune to a life-long melody but zoro can’t help the grin that spreads, savage, across his lips as he leans into the rhythm of the fight and lets his body sing.

it would not be remiss to call him monster, so he thinks as he digs the hilt of his swords into the side of an oncoming thug and hears the sharp crack of shattering ribs. he doesn’t wince at the warm splatter of blood as it paints his cheeks. a wide, manic smile pulls at his lips as he swings both swords around in a wide circle to slice through three oncoming bodies, before bringing them down in an arc to bisect another thug from torso to legs.

by the time he turns back around, most of the so-called pirates have already scattered, but one (the leader of the whole sorry lot) still stands, a blade pressed to the smooth expanse of your throat as he snarls, backing away from zoro, nose twitching like a frightened rabbit.

“d-don’t come any closer! or — or else i’ll slit her throat!”

zoro’s lip twitches, his eyes hardening as he stares at the shaking heap of leathers and furs, too much talk and not enough backbone. it’s people like this, zoro thinks, that give pirates a bad rep.

“i’d like to see you try,” zoro’s voice is iron-hard and steel-sharp, a dull throbbing cresting through his temples at the thought of any more harm coming to you even as he catches your eyes. they’re wide and dark and pleading.

don’t do anything stupid.

he almost scoffs. too late.

and then, almost by second nature, the thought comes to him — well, you started it.

the corner of his eye twitches as he sighs, making a show of relaxing his stance, of standing up straight to slip his swords back into their sheathes. he watches as the last thug visibly relaxes — licking his lips as his own grip on your neck loosens.

“t-there see? that wasn’t so hard, was it? n-now — now hand over all the gold you have and i might —”

thwack.

you feel the man’s grip on you slacken completely as you glance up to find the wadou ichimonji impaled through the thug’s head, right in between his eyes, the blade and hilt still vibrating from the force of the hit, nailing the man to the basement wall. you let out a sigh as you jerk yourself out from underneath the dead man’s arms, making a face as zoro reaches down to pull his sword out with a wet schluck.

“tch. just cleaned it yesterday.”

it makes a soft whoomph as he shakes off the worst of the blood dripping from it’s blade.

“sorry… i’ll — i’ll clean it after we get back —” you push yourself to your feet, dusting of your skirt, but a sharp pain in your side makes you stumble, and a second later, zoro’s arm hooks around your middle to keep you from falling.

the metallic tang of blood and the cold scent of steel arrests your senses. the world spins, the floor beneath you swaying like the deck of a ship even as darkness starts to eat at the edges of your vision. you hear zoro calling your name as if through a long, echoing tunnel and you frown, uncertain why he sounds so frantic all of a sudden.

“don’t… don’t forget… the apples…”

zoro stares, aghast as you go limp in his arms. there’s a wild thundering inside his chest as he looks around, his mind racing to catch up to what you’d just said — apples? what the —

he spots them, discarded in a corner by the entrance of the basement hideout — a rough burlap satchel sagging against the wall, filled with waxy red apples, round as the autumn moon and nearly just as big. he stares at them for a full minute before his eyes slowly slide back to you, still lying inert in his arms, though your breathing has evened out and your cheeks are flushed just the slightest shade of pink.

you’re in no immediate danger, he knows, but there’s an unpleasant darkness seeping into the material of your shirt along your ribs and the thing in his chest stutters, the strange pressure threatening to calcify into something very much like panic.

so he takes a deep breath, because master swordsmen don’t panic. those of a calm mind… or what the fuck ever.

he takes another breath and hoists you onto his shoulder, wrapping his arm around the backs of your thighs as he stands up and makes for the exit, reaching down to snag the bag of apples, grimacing as he hooks them onto his free shoulder. they’re heavier than he’d expected.

he’s halfway to the docks before you start to stir and he slows his pace ever so slightly, careful not to dig his shoulder into your still-open wound.

“have a good nap?”

you groan, and he almost grins as he feels you trying to wiggle out of his grasp. he doesn’t break his stride even as he adjusts you on his shoulder and keeps on walking.

“l-let me down — i can walk —”

“nope. don’t feel like it.”

“i’m sorry, okay?”

you sigh, the tension once again leaving your body and for a second zoro worries that you’d passed out again, but the next second, he feels your fists thumping lightly against his waist.

“hm. don’t remember asking you to apologize.”

but he does slow his step. he steps onto the bustling boardwalk, ignoring the strange, lingering looks of passersby as he hauls you bodily towards where the going merry is docked.

“doesn’t mean i shouldn’t.”

he pauses then, bending down slightly to let you slip from his shoulders, keeping his arm wrapped around you even as you slide down the length of his torso to land on your feet. your palms are pressed to his chest as you look up at him, and for a moment, as zoro searches the depths of your eyes, he isn’t sure if he wants to kiss you for being alright or scream at you for putting yourself in danger in the first place.

like this, he can feel all of you pressing against all of him, and the thing inside his chest still feels like something of a monster but at least it’s no longer tearing him apart from the inside out. it beats, uncoordinated, against his sternum, thumping up till he can feel it at the base of his throat.

he lets himself look at you, lets his eyes roam the planes of your face, lingering on the bruise kissing the corner of your mouth. he licks his lips and looks away.

“what the hell were you doing buying so many apples anyway?”

at this, you purse your lips, your lashes fluttering hummingbird quick as you look away.

“uhm… i — i can’t tell you.”

zoro rolls his eyes as he bends down, and in one swift motion, tosses you back over his shoulder. you yelp in surprise as he starts to make his way towards the ship again, seemingly deaf to your protests as you kick our your legs and thump your fists against his back.

“really, warn me, the next time you plan on getting kidnapped for ransom, would’ya?”

but he can’t help the slight smile that twitches at the edge of his lips even as he carries you onto the merry’s deck, kicking open the kitchen door to set you on the long wooden prep table.

because you’re still here, warm and breathing beside him, a bit banged up and bloodied, sure, but alive nonetheless. he’d gotten to you in time.

the creature inside his chest purrs in contentment even as he schools his expression back into a suitable scowl as you pout at him from the kitchen table, saying something about not planning on getting kidnapped, and he quips back something about all this being a bad idea from get.

he allows himself a secret, relieved sigh as he starts to rummage around for the first aid kit he knows is there somewhere, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of your summer sun laughter, watching as you wince and clutch at your wounded side.

how’s he to tell you that with you, the monster inside him starts to feel like much less monster and much more man? and that the day he met you, he stopped thinking of himself as a natural disaster -- only that he might be naturally a disaster sometimes, but something else in all the moments in between.

so he settles for dressing your wounds instead, pressing his palm to the soft expanse of your skin, holding still the shivers that threaten to shake him to his very bones when his fingertips graze against the ridges of your ribs, his other hand resting on the soft plush of your hip.

he settles for kissing you quiet when you start to ramble, because he can’t let himself think of the other things he might want to do to you if you’d let him. he settles, as the monster in him settles as well.

because with you, he knows he is both monster and man, and he knows — judging by the way you smile at him as he pulls back from your kiss — that you wouldn’t have him any other way.

opla!zoro reqs open!

[lucygxybaird]

billy & his mermaid lover have an important conversation.

Living here in San Diego is the first time in his life Billy has seen the ocean, and even after living here all these months, he still finds himself marveling at it. 

It seems almost like a living thing. It rages, it sighs, it lingers like a lover reluctant to leave. It is different from one day to the next, from one moment to the next, colors shifting from deep blue to slate gray, sparkling in the sun like a veil sewn with countless diamonds. He especially loves the way the moon will lay a path of ivory over the waves, reminding him of the snow in New Mexico, when it was freshly fallen and unblemished. 

Of course, the most miraculous, beautiful thing about the ocean is you. 

He’s waiting for you with his trousers rolled up to his knees, his feet in the water. Months ago, he found this little cove, sheltered by cliffs and conifers. He’d just been walking aimlessly, restless now that he didn’t need to run anymore. 

It might sound strange to some, to anyone who had never lived walking the knife’s edge of danger like a tightrope, but it’s difficult to get used to living any other way. The absence of adrenaline, of purpose — even if it’s just the jagged uncertainty of wondering where his next meal was coming from, or when he would have a roof over his head again — feels oddly like grief. There’s an emptiness, a vague sense of being lost, of drifting aimlessly like a leaf caught by the eddy of a breeze. And so he had just let the breeze carry him, pushing him across the country until he hit water.

Even once he was here, with nowhere else to go except across the Pacific Ocean, he didn’t stop moving. He changed lodging just about every month, if not simply for a different view. And he took walks nearly every night, when the cool ocean breeze reminded him of his mother’s gentle touch, teasing at his hair and fussing with his collar. Once, he’d never taken the same path twice, but that was before he met you. 

It’s different now, though. He thinks he could walk the way to meet you blindfolded, having memorized the particular whisper of sand beneath his boots, the barely audible murmur of the grass brushing against his legs, the call of the ocean getting louder with every step he takes. Each moment is so important to him, preserved in his mind like a photograph; he’s learned to appreciate beauty wherever he can find it, for as long as he has it, because it’s impossible to know when it will be taken away. 

In his experience, it’s always taken away. Illness, murder, demons of the mind or in the shape of men — one way or another, anything sweet and lovely in his life is stolen from him. 

As he spots a ripple in the water, getting closer and closer to shore, he hopes that this time is going to be different. 

Your head breaks the surface, your smile shining more brightly than the moon. Your hair is swept back, plastered to your neck and shoulders, but as you make your way closer to him, he watches as it flutters as if in a breeze, falling around your face in soft chestnut curls. 

It’s little things like that which remind him, even more so than the glimmering tail below your waist, that you’re a creature entirely apart from him. He’s seen you take a handful of sand, press it between your palms, and pull them apart to show him a pearl — seen you purse your lips and blow sea-foam into fantastic shapes, which firm up until they’re as solid as bone — seen you swim miles in a moment, jumping up from the water and arcing so high into the air that it seems you could catch the stars in your hands. 

You’re magical, that’s for sure, but the most magical thing about you is that somehow you’ve seen something in him worth coming back for, over and over. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, reaching out for you as soon as you’re close enough, pulling you into his lap. His feet remain in the water and so do your fins, and you lean back against his chest, turning in his arms to smile at him again. 

You wiggle your fingers. Hi. 

Of all the things you can do, the one thing you can’t is talk to him. He doesn’t know why, and you can’t explain it to him, but he supposes it’s something about your vocal cords. Maybe they only work beneath the waves, because something about the air ruins them. Or maybe you don’t even have vocal cords, the way he does. You’ve shown him so many times how special you are, it just stands to reason that the way you speak — or whether you can speak above the waves at all — would be different, too. 

The fact that it makes sense doesn’t mean it stings any less, though. 

“How was your day?” he asks, and you scrunch up your nose, holding out your hand and see-sawing it from side to side.

It was okay. 

You reach up and pat his cheek, gifting him with another smile, which he takes to mean: Better now. 

Billy smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin ever your shoulder, breathing you in. You smell absolutely intoxicating — the sweetest, freshest breeze off the ocean, mixed with notes he can’t quite identify but bring to mind lavender and citrus, hydrangea and rosemary. 

You look at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. You?

“Better now,” he agrees. He presses a kiss against your cheek. “I’m always happy to see you, honey, you know that.”

You smile, nuzzling your nose against his. Billy leans down and presses his lips to yours, melting as you respond. You manage to turn completely in his arms, until you’re kneeling — for lack of a better word — between his legs, and you wind your arms around his neck, kissing him again. 

And then again, again, again, until Billy is pleasantly dizzy.

When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his, your arms tightening around his neck. Billy keeps his hands on your hips, closing his eyes for a moment. 

No one in the world is more important to him than you are, and all he wants is to tell you he loves you. The words nearly escape him every time he sees you, like a firefly managing to find a chink between a child’s fingers to flutter up into the night sky. And he thinks — he hopes, more like — that you feel the same way, just by the way you look at him. 

He’s been thinking about saying it for so long, but he just keeps losing his nerve. What if he’s wrong? What if someone like you — so extraordinary, so rare, so beautiful — could never actually love someone like him?

Not for the first time, he wishes he could hear your voice. It might be pathetic of him — childish, at best — but he just needs your reassurances, spoken out-loud like an oath, rather than gestures that are up to his interpretation. He doesn’t think he’s been wrong about figuring out what your little looks and gestures mean, exactly, but he’s always been (no pun intended) a straight shooter. Sometimes, he just wants to know for sure.

He feels your cool fingertips against his cheek, and he looks at you, managing a smile. “Sorry, honey, I was just lost in thought. What do ya need?” 

You tap his temple, before touching his lower lip. Tell me what you’re thinking. 

He smiles again, shaking his head. “I was just…”

Your brow furrows impatiently, which makes him chuckle despite the rainclouds staining his thoughts in shadow. “I just wish…I wish you could talk to me.”

Before you can react, he rushes on, “I don’t wanna change anything about you. I love you just the way you are, but—”

A moment later, his voice sticks in his throat as he realizes that what he actually said. You’re staring at him, and he feels his heart climb into his throat, heat rushing over his cheeks so powerfully that he’s surprised he doesn’t just burst into flames like a tree struck by lightning. “I…I…”

You frame his face between your hands and you give him a resounding, smacking kiss on the lips. His heart starts a descent back into its normal spot, and when he sees the way you’re smiling at him, it gives a pleasant flutter. 

Emboldened, he goes on: “I love you just the way you are, but sometimes I wanna…I wanna know what you sound like. I bet you have the prettiest voice in the world.” He reaches up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Sometimes I dream about you sayin’ my name, and then I think about how sweet it would be all day.”

You lean in, nuzzling against him. Billy closes his eyes, breathing in your intoxicating scent again. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs, and you snuggle closer.

After a moment or two like this, you pull back and look at him, nibbling at your lower lip. “What?” he asks, his forehead wrinkling with worry. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, and then point toward the water, before holding your hand at the level of your chin and raising it slowly until it’s above your head. Then you point to the ocean again, repeating the gesture. It takes a second to click, and then Billy blanches. 

“I…honey, I don’t…I don’t know if I can.”

Ever since that terrible day when the wagon collapsed as his family crossed the river — Billy swallows, his skin going clammy just thinking about it, as if he’s submerged in that greedy current all over again. Watching his mother lean over his father, desperate, white-faced, pleading with him to wake up, saying his name over and over like it could weave a spell to save him. Ever since then, Billy has hated being in water, especially being in over his head. He loves you, so much, but — 

You take his face in your hands again. Your eyes are wide and earnest, your touch gentle, and you take one hand to put it over your heart. He knows what you’re trying to say: I’ll keep you safe. I promise.

“I can’t,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, baby, I just — I just can’t.” 

You smile at him, but it’s not the same smile as before. It’s tinged with sadness, with — his throat tightens — disappointment, but you just kiss his forehead and nod. I understand. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice rough, but you just shake your head and offer him another smile.

Don’t be.

Billy feels his eyes sting. He knows you were trying to say that you can speak to him underwater, which means he could hear you say you love him back. He can hear you, period. But the thought of the water closing over his head, his eyes seeing nothing but swirling blue-gray depths, his lungs begging for air…he doesn’t think he could stand it. The mere idea has his chest tightening as if someone is standing with a boot-heel pressed over his heart. 

The two of you stay on the beach for a few more hours. You dive in and out of the water, bringing him seashells, ropes of seaweed that you weave together and place on his head like a crown; you cup your hands full of seawater and pull your palms apart, countless water droplets sparkling in the space between like stars. You summon a dolphin and race with it (you win). 

Billy manages a genuine smile or two, but in the back of his head, a voice that sounds awfully like his stepfather’s keeps saying: Coward, coward, coward.

Eventually, you’ve tuckered yourself out, and you crawl back into his lap, curling up comfortably and dozing against his shoulder. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, leaning his cheek against the top of your head. He closes his eyes for a minute, steeling himself. “Honey, I…I don’t — I don’t think we should see each other anym—!”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve jackknifed upright in his arms, putting your hand over his mouth. You shake your head fervently, brows furrowed in a firm line. You flatten your mouth and shake your head again. No! Stop that! 

Billy gently peels your hand away from his mouth. ��Baby, I — I’m crazy about you, but I’m not…”

You put your hand back over his mouth. Your frown deepens. Your eyes narrow dangerously. Stop. 

He lifts his chin, freeing himself from your palm against his lips. “Listen to me, please,” he says. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me — ever, ever — but how can you say I’m deserving of you when I’m too chicken-shit to be a part of your world? Eventually you’re gonna get sick of always makin’ the sacrifices, always comin’ to me, when I can’t even spend a second in the ocean.” 

You lean back and splash at his foot, which is extended out into the surf. He chuckles despite himself. “You know what I mean.”

You shrug, casting your eyes down and back up. And so? 

“And so, you deserve better.” 

You slap your tail against the wet sand, hard. He isn’t sure precisely what that might mean, but it’s clear you disagree. You fold your arms over your chest and glare at him. 

“You deserve better,” he repeats softly. “You should just leave me behind.”

He earns another tail-slap for this. This time, he supposes you mean, I’m not going anywhere. 

Billy sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “I…I want to,” he says, and you nod, knowing what he means. He wants to go underwater, so he can finally hear your voice. He’s just so damn afraid. “I…how long would I have to be…?”

You hold your thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart, indicating it won’t be for very long. And then you wrap your arms tightly around him, looking at him earnestly. I won’t let you go. 

He knows you mean that in more ways than one. Billy presses his lips against yours, and your kiss gives him a small drop of courage. He knows you well enough to understand that you’re not just going to give up on him, that you don’t believe him when he says he’s not good enough for you. He can’t help but smile to himself. You’re so sweet and gentle that he never really noticed how stubborn you are before.

With this possibility out in the open between the two of you, he can’t just ignore it, and you can’t take the knowledge away. It will eat at him, being too afraid to do this for you, with you, and your tenacity can only hold out for so long. Eventually, he’ll push you away, even if that’s the last thing he wants to do — just because he’ll be so damn ashamed of himself.

He’s far too familiar with shame not to realize that’s the truth. 

Living this more settled life hasn’t always been perfect, hasn’t always felt like it fits, but he’s finally started to feel tall again. To push away the shame he’s felt about all the things he’s done, all the things he had to do, in order to do the right thing — or just in order to survive. You’ve been a big part of that, listening to him talk for hours; and no matter what he’s told you, you keep coming back. It helps him to understand that maybe he’s not such a lost soul after all. 

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He disentangles you gently and nods toward the water, and you dive back in, waiting for him a few feet offshore. He strips his shirt off and rolls his pants up to the knees, wading in. His heart starts to pound as the water reaches his waist, and by the time it’s up to his shoulders, he already feels like he can’t breathe.

But then you put your arms around him again, stroking his hair away from his face. You widen your eyes slightly, questioning. Ready?

He nods. “Yeah,” he croaks. 

With your arms still tight around him, you dive down. Billy has just enough time to suck in a deep breath, holding it, before he’s underwater. 

He looks at you, and he feels his heart trip.

Somehow, you’re even more beautiful down here. The shifting light dances over your skin, illuminating it as though from the inside out; you shine like a pearl, like a star, like a whole fucking constellation. Your tail catches the light, too, looking like a thousand tiny brilliant jewels. Your hair shifts and flows around you, but it doesn’t obscure your eyes, the way you’re looking at him. You lean in, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear. “I love you, Billy,” you say. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your voice is far lovelier than he imagined it would be, which is saying something, because he has spent hours and hours wondering. It’s warm and shimmering, full of music, ringing like a bell, yet somehow soft, gentle, intimate. He doesn’t think he could do justice describing it even if he spent the rest of his life trying. 

A moment later, you start to swim up again, and he manages to find his feet and wade back to the beach, despite the fact his legs feel weak. You follow him, smiling as you nestle yourself in his lap again. He puts his arms around you, holding you tight. 

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your hair. “Thank you.”

You look up at him, drawing your fingertips along his cheek. Gently, you ruffle his wet hair, getting it to stand up on end, making the both of you smile. You lean your forehead against his, looking earnestly into his eyes. Are you okay?

He nods, offering you another smile. “More than okay,” he says. “I think I’m the luckiest man in the world.” 

[fathercharlesoffdensen]

"Charles invading Magneto's mind (an act Magneto's right to call a violation) leaves Erik stranded in the literal freezing waters of his lifelong PTSD. Those tumultuous ocean waves, an obvious metaphor for Erik's mind, threaten to sweep both Erik and Charles away. 'Both' is Episode 10's key word. Charles Xavier could've easily consigned Magneto to his agony and gone about his business. Instead, he makes a choice simultaneously selfless and selfish. He doesn't fight Bastion (Theo James) with his X-Men. He stays in Magneto's mind and risks not just his own life, but his psyche. Even though the gesture doesn't excuse Charles's mental attack, he seizes this rare opportunity to help his beloved friend escape his emotional torment. Charles Xavier will either drag Erik free or drown with him, holding him close in the seething ocean.

"Charles is the only person capable of reaching Magneto because they're equals and opposites. Call them polar magnets or counterbalancing scale weights — or just soulmates. They complete one another, overused Jerry Maguire quote or not. Magneto hears Rogue's (Lenore Zann) distraught voice crying out to him in his amnesiac darkness. Hers is the only face he sees from his memories. Yet without erasing or diminishing his obvious love for Rogue, Erik also adores Charles. He has for decades. Even when they were physically apart, Charles rested in Erik's mind. Blocking out Xavier's influence is why Magneto wears his helmet. As Rogue wisely points out to Erik in Episode 2, 'You were worried if you still felt how much he loved you, you wouldn't be able to go through with your crusade.' That helmet is Magneto's armor against love.

"So, of course, it's Charles who reminds his fragmented self of the identity he forged from the ashes. Charles's compassion succeeds for the first time not because X-Men '97 backpedals their 'Magneto was right' statement in Xavier's favor. Rather, Charles finally works to meet Erik where he is. Erik might be an island because of and despite himself, but his fate needn't be forever lost and always losing. Charles reminds him they are a chosen family of two. He bleeds the poison from Erik's heart. And Magneto emerges reborn, reclaiming himself, his memories, and his purpose. He couldn't have a true redemption arc without Charles at his side."

[jennastokesart]

🥀 Caspian - Beasts of the Briar 🥀

So with the release of Broken by Daylight I just HAD to draw my favourite boy.

This series is my guilty pleasure and one that my book sister and i oceans apart had bonded over. We love love LOVE it!!! I was so jealous that she is an ARC reader. And I did not even know until the other day that the authors follow me on Instagram….I may have freaked out, and cried. 🙈

I plan to draw the rest of the briar crew. It is criminal how little fanart there is of the series 😩

~~~

Caspian from the Beasts of the Briar series by Elizabeth Helen 🖤

~~~

[luvnami]

shinazugawa sanemi is NOT the love interest of my dream office romcom! - chapter 3 (fuck me - no, not literally!)

ɞ an | this is a buildup to the okinawa trip arc in ch4 and ch5. i promise, we'll get more juicy bits soon! i wonder what will happen when sanemi and reader are on an island all by themselves... likes/comments/rb are appreciated. do let me know what you think about the fic! find the masterlist here ɞ cw / wc | mangaka!mitsuri and manager!obanai, sanemi's manboobs, blowjob mention, mdni (18+), 1.5k+

You think you might like ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ a little more than what you’d rather admit. You spend your weekend flipping through the first volume of the manga, in-between folding laundry and washing dishes (one of the many banes of your existence). 

The story starts off like any other: the protagonist visits her grandparents in Okinawa for summer vacation. She dreams about the ocean views and blue skies, but meets a boy her age that shows her the island’s secret: a magical gem that grants the user a single wish. As the pair explore the island and fall in love, they try to ignore their inevitable separation at the end of summer. 

The volume ends there. You put the book down and stare at the dark sky outside your apartment window, briefly thinking about a life where you’d wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. There’s no boss breathing down your neck for project proposals, no skyscrapers obscuring the light-polluted sky. You close your eyes. If you try hard enough, you can almost smell the salty sea and hear the caw of seabirds.

Nope. It’s just a dream, after all, and the reality you live in is unfortunately a lot more pathetic than an idyllic Okinawan life. 

You wake up the next morning to your third alarm, blasting from your phone as the device vibrates off your nightstand and clatters to the ground. It’s Monday and you have 15 minutes to get ready for work. You curse and jump out of bed, though your comforter tangles around your legs and you tumble onto your bedroom floor with a muffled thump. You waste an extra minute unwrapping yourself and nursing the bump on your knee. 

You race around your tiny Tokyo apartment in record time to make yourself look somewhat presentable for the office. No matter how attractive you think a beefy, handsome manager scolding you for being late would be, Shinazugawa would rather have your head on a pike (which is, contrary to popular belief, not as attractive). You thank yesterday-you for having enough sense to iron your clothes in advance. You wriggle your head through your shirt, grab your blazer and bag, and bolt out the door – though you end up having to turn back because you’ve forgotten ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ on your bed, and you’re meeting with the client today.

The morning rush is as unforgiving as ever. You make space for yourself on the packed train by shoving your way through, muttering ‘sorry’s that don’t sound very sorry in the first place. You look at the time on your phone. Maybe you’ll have enough time to grab breakfast at the convenience store. As the doors open and droves of people step off the train, you yelp and clutch onto a handlebar to avoid being swept off with the crowd. So much for that Okinawa dream.

You make it to the office on time and in one piece. It’s a miracle, really.

“Hey, you’re not late today!��� Masachika grins. 

You pretend to swing your fist at his head. He easily dodges, laughing it off. You spend the next ten minutes scarfing down your breakfast (red bean bread and a carton of juice) as Masachika tells you what he did over the weekend: taking care of his niece, watching a movie with his partner, the new recipe for chicken nanban he tried out. Way more entertaining and productive than your own weekend. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you spent half the time writing a new smut fic, so you lie about preparing for today’s meeting. The doubtful face Masachika gives you makes you feel a little bad, but not enough for you to tell the truth. You really, really don’t want to elaborate on how your protagonist gets eaten out by a vampire hottie. 

At 9.30am, you head over to a meeting room with Masachika and Shinazugawa. Your clients are already seated inside. The author, Kanroji Mitsuri, is all pretty in pink. Her eyes glitter and for a moment, you’re stunned, recoiling as sparkles and flowers pop up all around her face with a lovey dovey theme song playing in the background. Her aura shines like the sun. 

“Shinazugawa! Hi!” she smiles, and you’re almost knocked out by the pureness that radiates off of her. 

It’s a stark contrast compared to her manager, Iguro Obanai. Kanroji and him are as different as night and day. He’s dressed in all black and has a face mask on, with a glare so deadly it makes you want to prostrate yourself and beg for forgiveness for breathing the same air as him. You’re not quite sure who’s more terrifying – him or Shinazugawa. The more you think about it, the more you consider resigning from your job and living as a NEET, so that you never have to interact with men who haven’t outgrown their puberty-induced rebellious phase (i.e., Shinauzawa Sanemi and Iguro Obanai who think that glowering at everyone and everything is cool. It is not. It makes them look unapproachable and like a prick, not quite quiet and mysterious and Edward from Twilight as they intend to be. Though, you’re not one to gentle-parent a man into being socially approachable, so that’s on them to figure out). 

“Shinazugawa,” Iguro mumbles, though it doubles as a greeting. “Let’s make this fast. We have a lunch appointment after this, and I hate being late.”

You take a seat with Shinazugawa opposite Kanroji and Iguro, as Masachika serves everyone tea. Thankfully, even though your boss has a temper that reckons he must’ve been born out of Satan’s asshole, he’s professional and dependable when it matters. It turns out that Shinazugawa and Iguro have worked together before. A pair of unlikely friends, though you keep that thought to yourself since you do want to live to see another day. 

The meeting goes by smoothly. Kanroji is easygoing, and agrees wholeheartedly with the idea that you propose – a large poster set-up at a train station. It’ll help passengers connect the story of the manga with a vacation destination, and reach out to a varied audience on their daily commute. You’re relieved as Kanroji gushes excitedly over it, though you try to ignore the daggers that Iguro is throwing at you with his eyes. Shinazugawa silently nods along as you speak. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t interrupt you. 

The meeting ends with setting a date to see each other again in a month. You attempt to scamper off to your desk after sending Kanroji and Iguro off, but Shinazugawa calls for you and Masachika to stay back in the meeting room for a little longer. 

“We’ll make a trip to Okinawa this weekend,” he says, arms crossed over his chest (drool-worthy, strong and broad, insert another fifty adjectives here to convey the sheer delight of a man’s boobs). 

You gape. It isn’t strange for teams to conduct field research to understand the subject of their projects better, though Okinawa seems a little out of the company’s budget for you to take Shinazugawa at face value. 

“Seriously?” Masachika scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “What a waste. I took the weekend off because I have to take my parents to the hospital for a check-up. I guess it’ll just be the both of you, then.”

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. 

“Alright. I’ll see you at the airport Saturday morning,” Shinazugawa nods at you.

Cut the cameras.

You are not about to go on a two-day-one-night trip to Okinawa with your manager. Sure, the purpose of the trip is to collect research material for your project, but it doesn’t help that it’s Shinazugawa Sanemi is the one going with you (read again: SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI, HOTHEADED BOSS, KNOWS YOU WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT HIM, AND IS HOT AS FUCK).

Heaven and hell must be plotting against you, because you don’t know if you’re overcome with joy or despair. 

You hope that you’re sharing – NO! You will have separate rooms. There will be absolutely no tomfoolery. This is not a real life fanfiction fever dream come true, where there is only one bed and Okinawa will be storming all weekend so you’re forced to stay indoors with each other’s company. This is a very professional work trip, thank you very much. 

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath. “Yeah. I can do this.”

You’re strong. You’re independent. You will not fall for the office eye candy that is Shinazugawa Sanemi. As much as you can appreciate any well-groomed and decent looking man, office relationships are a line you’ve never considered crossing. It’s dangerous yet enticing, although you’d rather spend your time worrying about your 13th month bonus than sucking someone’s dick in the office storeroom on your lunch break. 

Shinazugawa gives you a puzzled look. The more he tries to understand you, the more he realises you are simply an enigma to him. He doesn’t know why he even bothers. A vein pops out on his forehead. 

“If you’re done talking to yourself about nothing, then you can go back to your work,” he seethes. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, we’re on our way!” 

You squeak out an apology and shove Masachika out of the meeting room. 

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me with Shinazugawa,” you sniff. 

“I know you’ve dreamt about it. Make sure to use protection, okay?”

“Shut up! It’s not like that!” 

Masachika laughs and you whack him over the head.

[daflangstlairde-art]

"Extremophile" 2/4

Part 3 of ocean depths

Summary:

You drown every minute, every second, with every breath you take. You haven’t breathed for so, so long. The icy waters are inside you, deep, deep inside you. All you could ever feel is cold and colder. You haven’t seen the sun in... so... long. It was so far away from you that you couldn’t even picture it anymore. And here was the sun himself. Here was that gasp of air that burned. You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death. — Alt summary: It's not easy but boy do I drag Killer (and everyone around him) kicking and screaming towards a healing arc

Chapter 2: "feel better" 3266 words

Credits, warnings and additional info on ao3.

—

You don't listen to them when they talk to you. You don't even look at them. You only snap, like when Dust kicks you in the shin for ignoring him. 

You don't care.

You don't think about Dream. You don't think about Nightmare.

None of this matters anyway.

Pain and suffering was all you had to make you feel alive, and now you don't even have that. Hah.

—

“...K–”

“If the words that come out of your mouth aren't ‘I’m here to give you your soul back’, I’ll make it easier for you,” you interrupt him, “and advise you to shut the hell up.” 

And once again, Night falls into silence. He stands where Dream usually does. You don't even give him the courtesy of looking at him. 

You don't want him here. You made that expressly clear. In a perfect world, he returns your soul and then leaves you be so you can finally off yourself. In a slightly less perfect world, but still an acceptable one, he just leaves you be. 

You hate him so much it's more than you can handle.

You want to rip him apart.

Instead, he just keeps standing there. What a coward. He can barely muster up a few words for you. What a fucking coward. All that power and yet he's a weakling.

You hear him take a breath. Steeling himself. You want to ruin his resolve.

“...You haven't been reading my–”

“Yep, and I'm not going to.” you cut him off again. “Not unless that results in me getting my soul back.” 

“...I cannot do that.” Night says quietly, and it almost makes you laugh. You're too tired for it, however. 

What a joke though, huh? The almighty Guardian of Negativity can't do something as simple as returning an object that doesn't even belong– ...well. You suppose it does belong to him, in a way. 

It did, at least. 

You belonged to him. 

And now he's... like this. 

“Right.” you reply flatly. “In that case — au revoir.” 

Another pause. It’d be funny how apprehensive he is to speak to you if it wasn't so pathetic and, frankly, annoying. 

“...Killer–” 

“I’m too lazy to get up and force you out,” you bulldoze over his words yet again, no interest in hearing him out, “so be nice and don't make me, baby,” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him flinch at the nickname. Your grin widens. Good. He deserves to hurt a little. You hope it made him deeply uncomfortable.

“I merely wanted to say I’m sorry,” Night rushes out in an attempt to be heard. “The way I treated you was never acceptable and it never should've happe–” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” 

The silence rings deafening in the quiet that follows. 

That exploded from you in a way that surprises even yourself. You realize you are boiling. It's detached, but it's there. You shove yourself to your feet, grinding your teeth in a malicious grin.

You breathe heavily. The hatred and rage and desire for violence courses through you like liquid nitrogen. 

“Shut up.” you snap, staring at Night. He stares back, mouth pressed flatly, braced. There’s scarring over his right eye, like very wrongly healed cracks, making it mottled. Deformed forever just like Killer’s soul. He can't erase his — their — past, no matter how badly he wants to. “That’s not for you to decide.” 

He doesn't say anything. 

You stalk toward him slowly, blade already summoned to your hand. You want to make him bleed. You want to make him hurt. 

“I remember,” you start, voice coldly cheerful, “the way you would wring my neck until I couldn't even cry out. I remember the way you told me to attack my– subordinates, and I didn't even hesitate. I remember the way you would make me sob with despair–” 

“And it wasn't right–” 

“And I wanted every bit of it!” you raise your voice over his. He’s barely two feet away from you now. You wish he would cower away.

There was always something... larger, about Corrupted Nightmare. Something bigger than life. Something superior to you.

Night, the way he stood in front of you now, was lithe. He was small. It made you want to squash him like an insect. 

“I don't know how you're seeing this in your sorry little brain,” you mock, “but I’m not some victim. I chose every part of what you did to me.” you step closer, raising your knife. “I enjoyed it.”

Pressing it under his chin. 

Forcing it ever so slightly upwards so the little coward meets your fucking eyes. His eye lights tremble. You hope he's scared.

“Wanna know why, Night?” you barely have to raise your voice to be heard, with how close the two of you are. You hope he feels all the violent intent pouring from you. 

“...Why?” Night dares to prompt, even quieter. 

“Don’t you remember?” you laugh harshly, “I’m defined by my suffering. I breathe negativity.” 

Night flinches as you parrot his own words back to him. You can see in his expression that it hurts. 

Good.

“And that...” you idly trace the line of his jaw with the tip of your knife. “...made me perfect, you said. You gave me exactly what I needed. I can’t be ‘helped’ — your idiot of a brother may think otherwise, but we both know the truth, don't we?” you chuckle. 

Night just keeps staring at you, a twisted expression on his face. You entertain the thought of peeling it away bit by bit. 

“You're all I had, and I’m all you had.” you remind him. 

(I loved you at your worst. I’m the only one who did.

And you left me.)

It all happens in a flash — you've barely pulled the knife back before you slam it into his chest and he screams, but you're louder–

“And you THREW IT ALL AWAY!” 

Hands flying up to grab yours but you twist the knife deeper, shoving him back. Until you slam his back into the pillar behind him. 

He clutches at your wrist with both hands, blood streaming down his shirt. But he doesn't leave. He just takes it. Probably due to all that misplaced guilt. It's pathetic. You're almost disgusted to wound him. 

You wonder if he’ll let you kill him. He won't die from this, of course, it's nowhere near enough, though you almost wish the sheer harmful intent you packed into it was enough to make him keel over.

Oh how the tables have turned. Now it's you putting that look on his face and making him cry out in pain. How cute.

He stares at you, tears building in the corners of his eyes despite his set expression. You wonder if it's the pain from the wound or the pain from your words.

“I was ready to do everything for you,” you snarl, still grinning close to his face so he misses none of it. “But nooo! Little Mister Good Night wanted to play nice!” you jeer, ripping the blade out of him. He buckles and chokes on it, gasping for breath. 

You grab his hand roughly. 

“But you’re not nice. You can't be nice. You’re a monster, just like me. We know the truth,” you pull his hand up, and slot the knife’s handle into it, “Don't we, my king?” 

Night tries to jerk his hand back, and then again, but he still refuses to fight back against you. It’d be adorable if it wasn't so stupid. 

You just use your second one to forcibly press his fingers closed around the handle of the blade. 

And then you press that blade to right where your soul always sits, always bared and vulnerable. 

You lean close, until you can even feel the pain from the sharp tip.

“So here's your ultimatum,” you speak slow and calm. Quiet enough so your voice doesn't even echo, because this is personal. Between you and him. You’re grinning. “You can't have both cakes, baby. Either leave me be completely; or stop with your game of pretend, stop being a coward and finish it.” 

The silence is deafening. 

You feel the way your grin is stretched over your face, leering and dripping black. You listen to Night’s harsh, quick breathing. You watch the shake in his wide, wet eyes. 

What a fun idea Night had, coming here. You wonder what he was expecting to happen. Fool. 

“...I–” Night takes a breath, “I don't wish to hurt you any more than I already have.” he says, pushing determined resolve into his voice, even with how quiet and shaky it is.

“Oh, but dear,” you croon, and you wonder if it’ll work if you were the one to shove his hands in the right direction, “can't we do what I want for once?” 

Night shook his head, distressed.

You sigh, releasing him, taking your knife back. 

It won't work if the intent isn't there, so you can't do it yourself. What a disappointment. Although that isn't a surprise, when it comes to this version of Nightmare. 

“Go on then,” you wave dismissively, turning your back to him. “Leave.” 

And in a perfect world, he does. In a perfect world, the Void comes and claims you with its own hands.

“No.” your wrist is grabbed, and you pause. 

Slowly, you turn back around. Until you can once again see his face. Like a little mouse. It has no right holding all that determination all of a sudden.

“...What?” you hiss.

“I said no.” Night repeats, as if you simply didn't quite hear him. Raising his chin a little, eye lights flickery but holding your glare nonetheless. “I'm not leaving you again.” 

You stare at him. 

You spit a laugh in his face and he winces. You hold your face, and you start laughing so hard your head hurts. The harsh sound bouncing around the mess that became of this damned corridor. 

Well isn't that a funny joke? Never knew Nightmare is such a comedian!

“Laugh all you want!” Night goes on the defensive, trying to speak over your deranged laughter. “I know you hate being alone, I’m not leaving you, even if I can't help, I’ll send Dream, or Dust or– I know you hate being alone,”

“And that's why you ditched me, isn't it?” you speak over his words, through your own laughter. He still hasn't let go of your wrist. The contact feels... feels. “Discarded me when I was no longer fun to push around?”

Night cringes, clearly pained at the reminder. Reflexively squeezing your wrist. 

“Left me? In the Antivoid? Poor ol’ me, all alone?” you press deeper into the emotional wound. “Because you wanted to hurt me as bad as you could, right? Remember? What good times we had, Night-night!” 

“You're so–” Night mutters through teeth, and you laugh in his face. 

“I’m what? Callous? Mean? Evil?” you continue mocking, “Come on, saayy it! Hopeless, beyond redemption? Violent and unstable, a distorted freak, scum?” oh yes, you remember the pretty names he’s called you, always the romantic, “Am I still perfect for you, baby? Or is your little toy finally too broken to play with?” you throw it all at him like darts at a board.

You know it hurts because he cries. His expression is set, but there's silent tears down his face. The sight of it might just make the next day a little more bearable to exist through. 

Instead of daring to address any of that, however, 

“...You’re not beyond hope.” Night whispers. 

What a moron. Him and Dream really are twins, huh? 

“Hey, waste as much energy on that as you want. I don't care,” you shrug, “I don't care about anything.” you say airily.

“That's not true.” Night still doesn't raise his voice. 

“Right, because you know me better than I know myself or... something something,” you feign a yawn, “Soo you going to leave already oorr?” 

Now, Night’s hand squeezes your wrist intentionally. There's probably meaning to it. You don't care. You don't care. 

“I’ll be back.” Night states, quiet but resolute.

You don't dignify him with a response. You don't care enough to do so.

When he finally leaves, you exhale. 

And once again it's just you and the silence.

—

You're that sick and tired of this hallway to last for three lifetimes. You need a change of scenery. 

You need something to do. You crave it like a druggie. You need to sink your sharp magic into something soft, watch the life drain out, so you can pretend like you're soaking it up. You need the rush of it, the hit of raised EXP. You need the adrenaline of a fight. 

Or, at the very least, you need a change. The boredom is mind numbing. It's torture. It’s eating you alive. You feel like you're decaying with every breath.

You wonder if Dust’s offer is still on the table. Probably, right? Mm. One small issue, though. 

You have no way of contacting him. You only have company when someone else decides to come around. 

You settle for repeatedly slamming the back of your head into the wall. 

If you're in pain, maybe you're real.

—

Huh. Killer didn't think Night would dare show his face around again. But apparently he was a little more serious about the whole ‘not leaving you alone’ thing. 

Except... he did nothing. 

Killer didn't greet him back when he popped up, but Night didn't push. He just... sat down on the ground. Opened up a book. Started reading casually like he was in a comfy public library. 

At least he wasn't being a bother again. 

Killer avoided looking at him initially, but now, he observed. Just watched the way Night sat, legs crossed. 

He was dressed... proper. Fancy and regal, but far from anything grand — more on the simple side, a caplet with a clasp, that sort of thing. In purple. 

Killer watched him turn a page. Stance calm and easy. Like Killer wouldn't take every opportunity to hurt him. It was... annoying. 

“You really have nothing better to do?” Killer spoke up, almost surprising himself with it. But hey, even talking to this loser was more than the devouring silence. “No charity work? Fixed all the lives you ruined?” 

He watched Night intentionally keep his composure together, not showing that’d gotten to him. Killer knew he had, anyway. He chuckled. It was so easy. 

“There's always something to do,” Night said calmly, eyes on his book. “And right now I’m choosing to do this,” 

“Aww, you missed me that bad, baby?” Killer mocked. “Realized you can never fit among them? That they’ll always hate you?” he spoke cheerfully. 

Night gripped his book. Then pointedly relaxed his hands. 

“...I already knew that,” he said quietly. In the echo of the hallway it was audible enough. “And... I do miss you,” 

Killer fell silent. 

...That... hm. He huffed. 

That was stupid. That wasn't– he wanted to snap at Night to shut up. 

“Well of course you do,” he crooned instead, grin widening, “Who wouldn't want a brainless yes-man of a peon?” 

Night frowned slightly.

“...You're not brainless,” he countered, of all things. Hm. He wasn't rising to Killer’s bait. He was keeping himself a lot more level-headed compared to last time. Interesting. 

“Right, my mistake,” Killer mimed rolling his eyes, “I’m heartless,” 

Night’s gaze broke from his book, but he still didn't look at Killer, only to the side. Frowning lightly. 

“I...” he spoke, considering, “...I don't think you're that, either.” 

Killer immediately spat a laugh. 

“Oh so you've gone delusional!” he revelled, “We should call Dust and Horror here, get the whole Crazy Crew!” he jeered. 

“I’m serious,”

“I’m sure you are!” 

“You're not heartless, Killer,” Night insisted, Killer’s mockery only strengthening his defensive stance. “Dream told me what happened between the two of you. I know you felt his affective aura and you've always been able to feel mine–” 

“Woooww, I’m susceptible to emotions forced on me? You're right, I’m such an empath–”

“That's the thing,” Night now looked at him, closing his book. Oooh, getting serious? “Ink can't. He’s influenced only by his vials. Fresh is immune to our influence too — but you’re not. You can feel it, you feel it all,” 

Killer sighed, enduring the lecture with an almost familiar lack of care. Ahh, the amount of times he’s been scolded by Nightmare. Sadly this one probably won't end like those. What a shame.

“So what?” Killer shrugged. 

“I think,” Night spoke like this was far from the first time he’d thought on the matter, yet still treading carefully, “that... you could, hypothetically... feel on your own. You had the capability before, even if it has been a long time, right? It– it's like an atrophied muscle, you struggle to generate anything on your own, but the senses for it are still there–” 

“You have no way of knowing that,” Killer pointed out. 

Night paused. Squinted. He idly fidgeted with the top corners of his book, contemplative. 

“...You know what?” he chimed, “You're right. How about we test it?” 

Killer blinked. “Test it,” he repeated flatly. 

“Yes! Like an experiment,” Night nodded, a little livelier, “That would be at least a little interesting, right? We can bet on it, even, and it'd be a win-win for you — either you're right and you win, or I’m right and we can work on hea– recovering your emotional senses!” 

...What a nerd.

But he did know how to convince Killer. It was almost nasty, the way he used his intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Killer’s mind. 

It would be more interesting than doing nothing, though. And it would be a win-win for him. 

“Mmm,” Killer tapped a finger, acting indecisive, “A bet, huh? What are you betting?” 

Night paused again. “I meant it more figuratively,” he coughed. 

“And I’m making it literal,”

“Well what are you willing to bet on it?” what do you even have?

Clever, flipping it back to Killer. Night was showing his chess skills.

Hmm. What could he bet? Not like he had... anything, really. 

...But. There was something that Night had which Killer wanted. 

“...My soul,” Killer said, smirking. “If I win, you give it back. If you win, you can keep it.” 

And if Killer was right, and he was truly, provably hopeless, getting his soul back had an obvious next step. If Night somehow, ridiculously, proved to be right, Killer could hypothetically live with that. 

A win-win.

Night was hesitating. 

“...I don't–” he puffed an exhale, “Your soul is– that's too much. I’m not–” 

Killer cackled loudly, “Well then you better be pretty convinced in that little theory!” he prodded. “Come on, it’s my soul after all,” 

Night pushed himself to his feet, storing his book in his inventory. He took in a breath, let it out. 

“...I have a few terms.”

“Okay,” Killer indulged him, amused.

“You’ll also let Dream help. And you have to go about this fairly — give it an actual shot, don't just... shoot it all down.” Night kept his back straight as he spoke. 

“Sure,” 

“...Genuinely?” Night was taken back by his response. 

“Yeah whatever,” Killer shrugged, getting to his feet. “Win-win, right?” 

“...Right.” 

“Well?” Killer extended a hand. 

Night glanced at it, then at his face. Breathed in, breathed out. Steeled himself, committing to his decision. 

He strode closer, took Killer’s hand and shook it. It didn't hurt. Even Killer didn't take the opportunity to hit him with an attack. 

Alright then. Time to see how this unfolds.

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x07 Ocean's Apart (Part 2)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Ocean's Apart

It just occurred to me that this scene does not take place in the normal Bridgerton drawing room. Is this Hastings House? Or another room in the Bridgerton home? I haven't paid enough attention to Daphne's story line to notice.

Anyway... Daphne makes good on her promise and has arranged a meeting between Colin and Marina. And I should note the title of the episode -- ocean's apart. It is, of course, a nod to Daphne and Simon's issues, but also to Colin and Marina. And... as I brought up in the previous post -- a nod to the Leander and Hero myth, where the two lovers are split by the ocean. Simon and Daphne, obviously, will find their way back to each other. But Colin and Marina truly are ocean's apart. They are just not meant for each other, and this scene is going to close the book on their romantic story.

Colin starts out by asking for confirmation about the pregnancy. But his wording of it is interesting -- Lady Whistledown cannot be true. Right? Right??? He's so deeply in denial, despite everyone around him telling him otherwise. There was an ounce of hope he had in the faith he had in his own love that the pregnancy was a made up lie to scorn him (them).

Marina is done with the lying. She didn't even want to be there, and is only there because Daphne requested her and she can't really say no to a duchess. She tells Colin the pregnancy is real, and Colin's whole world shifts in that moment (and a nice bit of physicality as Colin himself shifts).

He kind of stutters, asking her really - you're with child? He looks her up and down, too, as if wanting physical proof of this.

Then he says something that is very telling -- 'I do not understand, we were to be wed. You said you loved me.'

And this is where Colin's romantic nature is his undoing. First of all, marriage and love are inextricably linked. You agree to marriage than you agree that love is its basis. In a time where it really was rare, that is one of the values that is at Colin's core. And it shakes him to his very core that Marina lied to him.

Marina tells him - I hold you in the highest regard. Admitting, though, that she does not love him. And that is when Colin's heart is truly breaking. If she had been pregnant and still wanted to get married, was actually in love with him, he could continue playing the romantic hero, could continue drowning in his own love. But she's ripping the mask of the rouse now. She used him, yes manipulated him, and yes used his own love to her advantage.

He gets angry, but it's retrained but emotional. Colin isn't a lash out kind of guy, not like Simon or Anthony. But he does show his hurt visibly, and the words come pouring out as he tries to sort out the situation. He is at an utter loss that she doesn't feel the same way, he's processing all the lies, and claims she's committed a great sin - and it's funny, that yes, the sin is being with child out of wedlock and using someone to cover it up... yes, the sin is, in general, lying. But what it is the most for Colin -- what hurts him the deepest, is lying about love him back.

Colin lives for love. He feels love deeply. He wants to be loved back just as deeply. And for Marina to cast that all aside, to claim she was not there in it with him, feels like the biggest part of the betrayal.

Marina lays down a huge dose of reality though. She stands up for herself, claiming she's not going to allow herself to be shamed by either Colin or Daphne (who isn't really reading in the corner). And while they may think she's a villain, the situation just isn't black and white like that. She takes a moment for herself, when she says that no one ever led her in the right direction, and no one taught her any better - so she's been trying to do what's best for herself.

And it's important to note that Marina did like Colin as a person. She picked him because he was kind and empathetic. That she does appreciate the depth of how he loves. But in all of this, not only was she needing to look after herself and her unborn child, her heart had been utterly broken. And she just cannot with the idyllic love. She cannot with how Colin lives in the clouds with his fantasies. Her reality is a much, much darker place.

The more she talks, the more his heart breaks, and you can see him start to well up. And this is when the emotion, the betrayal, the hurt, the anger really come out. He mocks her a bit when starts saying that he should feel lucky that she chose him? And, it's interesting, as he yells at her, it gets more emotional and for a moment slightly unhinged, and then he immediately pulls himself back and recomposes himself. Another reminder that even at the height of emotion, Colin always pulls inward.

After he collects himself, he tells her, basically, that he's done with her. (It's deliciously dramatic, lol)

She doesn't really have anything else to say, either. But she's upset, too. It's an emotional confrontation. She's sad for herself and her situation. But she truly never really wanted him to be hurt by any of it either. She wasn't being malicious. She was looking out for herself. And now it's all unraveling and she's alone again.

As Colin moves to leave, he pauses and turns one more time to her to say -- the ironic thing is that if she had told him about her situation, he'd have still married her. Because he loves her that much.

And here's my thing about that....

First of all, note the present tense when he says 'that is how in love I believe myself to be'. His heart is shattered, but that love he (thinks he) feels is still very real and still very present. And it's going to take going to Greece to get over it (and even then he won't really be over it until she again firmly shuts the door on him a second time).

Colin loves love and wants love so badly that he's holding onto things that aren't good for him because the alternative is not having that love at all, and he really just doesn't know what to do with it.

The second thing is that hero complex that's coming into play -- the fact that saving her from her predicament means that he'd have self worth. He places a lot of his self worth on his ability to help others, and it's reiterated in this sentiment. If you hadn't deceived me, I would have helped you, I would have been your hero, I would have done anything and everything for you. Because Colin seems to believe that is conditional - and if he isn't helping you, isn't saving you, well then, what good is he? (ah, we will be revisiting this later...)

But here's the thing, the thing that really gets me. As romantic as this sounds? It's TERRIBLE.

If Colin had married Marina, either knowing or not knowing of the pregnancy, he would have ended up utterly miserable. His love would always be unmatched. Even if she did grow affection for him -- and who knows, maybe she would have, but I kind of doubted it. Colin is a bit smothering when in love. And he really needs a partner that not only can cope with that, but doesn't mind getting lost in that themselves.

Not only are Marina's feet a bit too firmly on the ground (she is a practical realistic, who would always burst Colin's bubble) her heart belonged to another and it got shattered. And I don't know that she'd ever really allow anyone to hurt her in that way again, so there'd always be something between them.

Their marriage would end up being incredibly cold. Marina would push him away. Colin would become resentful. And he'd probably throw himself at his kid or traveling or whatever work he could find. But would never really feel that sense of connection that he so desperately desires.

Marina only sees him for her use to him, not for who he is himself. And he may not realize it yet - but he does need someone who likes him for him, not someone who needs him.

But... (I say because I can't shut up about this scene) Colin needed to go through this. It's not a bad thing that he's dosed with reality every once in a while. It's not a bad thing that he gains the experienced of not having been loved back. It's not a bad thing that he learns the difference between infatuation and real love - because he'll be able to recognize real love for what it is when it finally presents itself.

It's all, really, a part of growing up. And Colin is, after all, a young man in that awkward stage between child and adult, where you do go through all of this stuff.

So, we end the scene with a heartbroken Colin rushing away. This is the last time they'll see each other (until Season 2), and it closes the book on the Colin side of this story. (Marina's story will go on without him now...)

But this whole experience not only gives great insight into the type of character he is, but it's going to shape his world in a fundamental way, and have effects to his stories in later seasons.

And... that's where I'm going to stop for now.

[skygodtraumabond]

[A letter, on Goldenrod Ecological Society letterhead, with Professor Bellamy Amaryllis's name at the top, but the word Professor on it has been crossed out. A folded piece of light blue fabric falls out along with the letter.]

Ray,

I'm sorry, none of this was supposed to happen. I don't even really have a handle on what's going on anymore. I'm doing my best and I keep coming up short and I hope you can forgive me. At least some day. I don't know anything about any of this.

Briar is helping me figure out a transfer, if nothing else to hopefully keep that pokemon away. I have always been nervous at best about the intentions of legendary pokemon, they are forces of nature, important and to be respected, but just as a wildfire keeps it's own domain in balance in it's own way they are no less dangerous.

Stay strong my friend, hold that persistence I have always seen in you in your heart. It will not be long, you will be safe. I'll be here, I remember my promise.

-Yours, Amy

[Unfolded, the fabric displays an embroidery, an image of Nerve the venomoth with clouds here and there around her, her patchy blue fur and her big eyes a very decent likeness. It is not perfect, and the backside is a mess of interconnected threads, but it is obvious this was given care and would have taken someone many hours to complete.]

<Bzzt! Amy, we really appreciate everything you've been doing. Even if Ray's still really skittish, they're grateful. It's been scary for all of us, but I swear, I'll keep doing the best I can to make sure they heal!

Right after they stop crying, anyway. You were working on that while they were still in Goldenrod hospital, right? I can't imagine how long you spent on it. I'm sure they realize that too, even if they're not the best with words right now.

They've been getting a lot of support, really. A lot of kind words. Every time they go to respond to them, they just kind of keep staring. Sometimes they manage something, sometimes they don't. They just don't know what to say. It's like they just forgot how to accept it.

I'm scared for them too.

We haven't known each other for long, but I know they're a good person. They're just really scared and angry and hurt all the time.

From the bottom of my CPU to everyone who's tried to help: thank you! You may not feel it, but you're doing a lot of good! :> I hope you all have a good day!>

[oxittocin]

sunray (nico robin x reader)

nico robin masterlist

because i recently met someone who felt like busking in sunlight

cw: gn!reader, pre-water 7 arc

also, thank you @turtletaubwrites ; i wouldn't have found the motivation to put thoughts to words without your kind comment

Busking in sunlight.

She was busking in sunlight, lounging in her favourite spot on the outdoor deck, engrossed in a book she probably picked up on the last island. She is a picture of graceful stillness; her eyebrows raising ever so slightly in delight whenever she comes across a sentence that tickles her fancy. You peep a slight smile and a quiet, cheerful hum - small quirks that would have been too easy to miss. She meticulously thumbs through another page.

You wonder what snippet of knowledge she has since added in her library of wisdom; you wonder if she would ever invite you for a chat, and metaphorically let you take a walk through the museum that is her mind.

———————————————

You wonder so often what goes on in Nico Robin’s pretty mind. You’ve thought about it for a good few weeks now, yet the answer seems to continuously elude you.

At first, her history of being associated with Baroque Works rendered you wary of her, eyeing her suspiciously whenever she approached you. A cunning mastermind was what you thought she was. Someone who would go to great lengths to protect her vested interests, regardless of the costs.

Over time, you warmed up to her. How could you not? There was no doubting the sincerity that radiated from her being whenever she looks at Chopper. Slowly, you noticed it too when she speaks to the other Strawhats.

The fondness in her voice when she addresses Luffy, her firm protectiveness over Nami, the mutual respect she has with Zoro, her teasing banter towards Usopp, her never-ending tolerance for Sanji’s flirtatious antics.

This can’t be faked, you thought.

And when she looks at you, soft gaze and smile - you wished so badly that it was real.

That can’t be faked, right?

———————————————

The enigma that she is has occupied the vast majority of your time. It keeps you distracted. It keeps you up all night. Most of all, it keeps you single-mindedly obsessed with figuring her out.

You don’t know how it began, but like vines that grow towards the sun, you started to orbit around her - as though she was the gravitational force that kept you grounded.

It started with minor tweaks in your schedule. Where you used to spend most of the time carrying weights with Zoro in the afternoons, you’d silently shifted some of the dumbbells to the deck where Robin lounges, stealing sly glances at her while you go about your routine.

———————————————

“You’ve been training here a lot more.” She had commented once, a few weeks ago.

“Oh yeah. Zoro’s stinky.” You hurriedly searched for an excuse, throwing poor Zoro under the bus.

“I think you’re safe for today. He had his weekly shower yesterday.” She responded with a chuckle.

You could feel your cheeks burning up, embarrassed that she might have figured out your true intentions. You prayed that she would logically assume that the blush was from the workout instead.

———————————————

Soon, you had gotten used to spending afternoons on the deck with her. Her, lounging with her book and you, going about your workout routine.

The comfortable silence that you had both grown accustomed to was peppered with witty exchanges throughout the day.

Yet, there remains a line that cannot be crossed. Her fondness and affection often hiding behind a polite demeanour that you simply cannot override.

You wonder what else resides in the depths of her thoughts; what secrets, ambitions and aspirations might she hold in her heart, not quite yet ready to let out.

———————————————

You were sitting a mere few metres away but the distance between you and her felt like oceans apart.

It didn’t matter though.

You would cross that bridge when you get there. For now, you were content for whatever this is to remain as is; to enjoy her presence without the complexities of the heart, feelings, whatever this was.

And whatever was this?

What was the language one would use to describe this arrangement?

A friendship, but not quite. A crush would sound juvenile. An attraction doesn’t sound right either.

By then, as you were pondering the semantics of the situation, the afternoon heat that had earlier prickled your skin has since given way to the gentle breeze of the cool sea air. A sign that the sun is steadily setting, as the ocean of orange paints over the clear blue skies.

It was then that it occurred to you.

It was like busking in her sunlight.

———————————————

Perhaps your gaze had lingered on her for a second too long, prompting her to look up from her book, curious eyes meeting yours.

“Your dumbbells haven’t moved in quite a bit.” She teased you, coy smile gracing her features before she shifted her attention back to her book.

Perhaps it is true that sun must set, and the night must eventually fall. Still, for however long it may be, you hope that you could stay in her periphery. For just a little while longer, if only to busk in her sunlight.

[bookloover35]

The Edge of the Blade- Zoro x Mihawk daughter reader.

The waves lapped lazily against the hull of the Thousand Sunny as the Straw Hat crew sailed through calm waters. Roronoa Zoro leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his swords resting at his side. His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to training. The hunger for a worthy opponent burned in his chest. Little did he know, that hunger was about to be sated.

The call came from the crow's nest.

"Ship ahead!" Usopp yelled. "And... someone's standing on the mast!"

The crew gathered at the deck as the ship came closer. A sleek black vessel approached, its mast adorned with the symbol of a hawk in flight. Standing at the peak was a figure shrouded in black and gold, a long cape billowing in the wind. When the ship drew close enough, the figure leaped effortlessly onto the deck of the Sunny.

Zoro's eyes locked on her immediately. She carried herself with a lethal grace. Her dark hair framed a face that was strikingly familiar, and at her side, a sword gleamed in its scabbard.

"I'm here for you, Roronoa Zoro," she said, her voice calm but commanding. "I've heard much about your skill. I'd like to see it for myself."

"And who the hell are you?" Sanji asked, stepping forward, though his leer faltered under her intense gaze.

Her lips curved into a sharp smile. "Y/N Dracule. Daughter of Mihawk."

The crew collectively froze, their gazes darting to Zoro, who stood motionless, his expression unreadable.

Zoro took a step forward, the corner of his mouth twitching. "So you're Mihawk's daughter, huh? Makes sense. You've got that same annoying arrogance."

Y/N's smile widened. "And you have the same cocky bravado as they say. Shall we see if it's justified?"

Before anyone could protest, Zoro drew his swords. "Fine. Let's do this."

The fight began without ceremony. Y/N moved like liquid lightning, her blade cutting through the air with a precision that made Zoro's instincts flare. He blocked the first strike, sparks flying as steel met steel. She didn't relent, forcing him back with a flurry of attacks that tested his reflexes.

Zoro's grin grew. "Not bad. But let's see how you handle this." He twisted his blades, launching a powerful Onigiri. Y/N countered effortlessly, her blade moving in an almost lazy arc to parry.

"Is that all?" she teased, her tone light, but her eyes sharp.

The crew watched in awe. Luffy, sitting cross-legged on the figurehead, grinned from ear to ear. "Zoro's got his hands full, huh?"

"She's amazing," Nami whispered. "It's like she's dancing."

Zoro felt the strain of the fight but pushed harder, his swords whirling in deadly arcs. Yet Y/N matched him, her movements fluid and measured, her blade finding the smallest openings in his defense. She wasn't just fighting to overwhelm him; she was analyzing him, learning his patterns.

Then she struck.

Her sword slipped past his guard, the flat of the blade smacking his ribs. Zoro stumbled back, eyes wide. She didn't stop there, delivering a series of strikes that sent his swords flying from his hands.

Zoro dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Y/N stood over him, her blade pointed at his throat.

"You're strong," she said, her voice softer now, "but you rely too much on brute force. If you don't learn to refine your technique, you'll never surpass my father."

Zoro glared at her, his pride stinging worse than his ribs. "Tch. Don't think this is over."

Y/N sheathed her sword and offered him a hand. "I hope it isn't. You have potential, Zoro. I'll look forward to our rematch."

That night, as the crew shared dinner, Zoro sat apart, replaying the fight in his mind. He hated losing, but something about Y/N's skill—and her unshakable confidence—ignited a fire in him.

Y/N sat nearby, polishing her blade. She caught his gaze and smirked. "Next time, don't hold back."

Zoro smirked back. "Next time, I'll win."

For the first time in a long time, Zoro felt the thrill of a challenge he couldn't resist. And as the moonlit ocean stretched endlessly before them, he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't the last he'd see of Y/N Dracule.

End.

[project-sekai-facts]

PREDICTIONS AHEAD! I noticed how the second arc enders were all closer to each other and after analyzing a bit, I then came to the conclusion that the odd enders are more spaced apart than the even enders. 1st arc enders Resonating with you - E21 Magical Showtime - E 25 What Lies Behind - E 38 MORE MORE CHRISTMAS - E 42 Power of Unity - E 54 [Amplitude of 33] 2nd arc enders STEP BY STEP - E 98 Farewell My Mask - E 100 Our Constelatoin of Song - E 101 On Your Feet - E 103 Our Happy Ending - E 104 [Amplitude of 6] 3rd arc enders Over Rad Squad - E 135 Our Hands, Covered in wounds - E 150 [Amplitude of 15 so far]

I would then risk to say that the next arc ender could be Wonderlands Showtime, with a Rui event. We can see from the 1st arc ender that the space between events varies between little jumps and big jumps. We had a big jump now [150-135 = 15] similar to the leap between the WxS and N25; and MMJ and Vbs arc enders. Considering we just got Nene5, 5/6 events from now we should get Rui5, like how we got mizuki5/ena5 with 5 events of interval. It cannot be mmj since Shizuku5 is right at the door. And meanwhile, Rui4 gets closer to EN Server.

For future predictions, I would risk either Haruka 5 or Shiho 5, both as arc enders of their respective units. But considering how Shiho had an event just now, along with being a 2* on both Ichika's and Saki's events, I'm leaning toward her side. (but I would like to mention how Hona5 as ard ender is also a possibility) Shizuku was also featured at said event, although 2 events later she's ready to go.

As for closer events I would like to recall that Honami is dangerously close to focus jail so having her somewhat soon could help fill events.

I would also like to mention our boy Toya who is also getting close to jail. He has gotten many events and cards, his ocean orchestra and 4th anni limited leave me somewhat confused but, considering An5, Kohane5 were limited. Along with Toya getting featured on the 4th anni makes me think he is a permanent event. As for the New Year's. We have 13 Contestants: Ichika; Saki; Minori; Airi; Shizuku; Akito; Toya; Emu; Nene; Rui; Kanade; Mafuyu; KAITO We take out Ichika and Saki immediately for they have gotten hairstyles just a month ago. Followed by Shizuku who is getting her event just now. That leaves us with Mafuyu, Emu, and KAITO as the ones with the least hairstyles, whose dynamics match. Throw in Ichika, whose last 2* was the Sanrio collab, and who knows Mafuyu, their last event dates back to February with Relax Tea Time. Finally, Nene had her last 3* in the 2.5 anniversary. Not to mention that with Ichika and Emu, the dynamic is assured. For Bloom, we can start by looking at Len, the VS with less hairstyles. If we assume that clpl will follow any pattern, we cannot link him with An or Toya since he is a starter VS of VBS. Looking back, neither Shiho, Airi, nor Toya can be, since they got hairstyles from the 4th Anni leaving us with Haruka, who got her Colorfes a long time ago. Similar to Kanade and Rui. If we instead go from the OC with fewer hairstyles, we get Toya. He cannot be linked with Len, and Miku has gotten her hairstyle sooner than Luka. Miku got in ORS while Luka in Wedding Live

This is probs all wrong, it's 5:30am now, have a good day!

aaaa i'm so sorry i'm so late to answering this, i've been meaning to for like two weeks i just kept forgetting orz

okay so for arc enders i definitely think the remaining three will be the next 1 or 2 events for each unit. if we assume 6th anniversary to be arc ender 4/graduation we don't want some units to be speedrunning their conclusion again, which would likely happen if we don't finish up very soon. (how wxs managed to be rushing arc 2 in the first place is a mystery but what's done is done. this is mainly about vbs taking 1yr 8 months to finish arc 1).

my guess is that the next mmj and ln events are arc enders. it'd make sense given the way their recent stories have played out. wxs i'm less sure about. i'm fairly certain next event will be emu and not rui, due to some stuff that happened in emu's card story. given that every troupe we've visited so far has had two dedicated events, we can assume next event will still be the opera company, so it depends on if they want that to be the arc ender or have a conclusion event/rui5 afterwards.

i don't think emu/mafuyu/kaito + nene/ichika NY is very likely at all. emu and mafuyu had a mixed event focused on them only a few months ago, and kaito would have to be an MMJ lim (we literally just got N25 Meiko last month) meaning we need an MMJ girl on the banner, who is most likely to be Airi, though Minori is not impossible. Mafuyu and Nene both already have trained NY cards as well, so they're off the table entirely. Ichika being 2* wouldn't actually be surprising to me though. I think Kanade or Akito is likely to fill the last 4* slot.

bfes has to be Len or he will end up really far behind everyone else bc the mmj girl will break lim cap. also he's really due one anyway so i agree w you there. the pairing character has to be from ln, mmj, or vbs. from those units, the character with the current oldest lim is An, who also doesn't have 7 lims yet either. she's my pick since then you don't have to give her another lim until her 5th anni banner card either. however, she's also possible for vday or wday if we go by the theory that the vsinger cant match with a starter unit member.

i don't think haruka is a likely pick, since that would make 3 out of the 5 rateup characters total be mmj unit (kaito/haruka/either minori or airi), something that only 1 fes gacha has done before (rise as one + fes, but that was an exception anyway due to the need to include saki on wxs fes). if i had to go with anyone other than An, I'd pick ichika or akito or toya.

[xaeyrnofnbe]

HOW ID REWRITE ANGEL: THE SERIES

(bc i liked the show but i feel like things should have played out VERY differently) (i'm very biased towards certain characters also)

changes start around when cordy ascends to be a higher being and connor throws angel in the ocean

her boredom as a higher being leads to her coming back to earth (on her own accord!!) and giving up her godhood to do so, but retaining outward, physical demonic traits (themed around her brief appearance as a god bc i think the imagery there was very pretty) and this acts as a full circle moment for her character, mirroring doyle in season 1. whereas once she was disgusted by a half-demon, now she is one herself and couldn't be happier. she still has visions and some minor abilities but now she doesn't pass for human and doesn't get to be space-demon-god

connor and cordelia DOESNT HAPPEN. GIRL THAT IS YOUR SON. BOY THAT IS YOUR MOM. PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER

more lorne. idc what happens with him i just want him to be more of a main character

cordelia and angel have some brief awkward flirtations(?) which are super weird and uncomfortable and they conclude that they love each other dearly, but aren't into each other Like That (they only thought so to begin with bc all their friends kept saying it) (but they're buddies :]]])

connor seriously struggles with holt's death, and has to grapple with the emotional confusion of trying to live with and cooperate with the very man he was raised for the sole purpose of killing. but angel investigations really want him to be ok so they take good care of him throughout, even if he is hesitant to accept

uhhhh eventually wesley does get apologetic about betraying his friends. it takes him a while but he does recognize and regret his wrongdoings

i don't know what the big bad should be in season 4 since i'd fully retcon everything needed to make that plot happen. i like to imagine it would be better though

they DO end up running wolfram & hart. since i think it's funny. and spike's arc remains the same with him returning as a ghost, coming back to life, etc etc. he'd be a smidge different though, a TAD less antagonistic. not because i think he wouldn't but because i'd like to see more of the spike we saw at the end of btvs (it'd be hard to justify with buffy not being present, but i still think it's doable)

harmony gets to be more of a character also!!! she and cordy hang out :)) she also takes her job as angel's assistant VERY seriously, but in that way that only harmony could be, which is to say: not very serious at all actually, but she's very determined about whatever the hell it is she's doing

more hints that angel and spike banged when they were evil because 1. i think it's funny, 2. the implications for their characters and dynamic are EXCELLENT. i would also like a few more friend moments for them. and maybe they kiss idk whaaaat who said that. no but seriously the werewolf girl doesn't happen and instead that plot is taken over by spike. imagine. i mean whattt

more of angel acting silly bc he was adorable in the first season and i'd love more of that

fred doesn't die suddenly and horribly. preferably not at all

gunn gets to care about literally anything other than himself in s5. more emphasis on his resilience? his will to survive? and how that makes him more loyal to the people in his life? pretty please? and he hangs out with wes because they were friends once?

with cordelia not gone maybe they could somehow move dennis to wolfram & hart? or maybe cordy has a new apartment he could stay at? idk i just thought he was fun and SURELY there's a spell for that

basically there's road bumps for sure but at the core of the show is a band of friends. they LIKE each other, because i genuinely believe that's where the show is strongest. i never really cared for the dramatic plotlines, im really only in it for the characters i adore and their (ALMOST ENTIRELY PLATONIC UNLESS ITS FUNNY) relationships to one another. and it's at its weakest when everything's all gloomy and dramatic. so let it be lighthearted and let them be FRIENDS